


Agent Oregon

by One_Real_Imonkey



Category: Red vs. Blue, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Bombs, Forensics, Gen, Psychological Torture, Sleep Deprivation, Torture, ect. - Freeform, lotsa stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:29:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8557930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Real_Imonkey/pseuds/One_Real_Imonkey
Summary: Agent Oregon's time at Freelancer. She hates it. She's a scientist not a soldier.On hiatus





	1. A sheep in a snake skin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own.  
> I'm using movie methods for bomb defusal because, although I know they are wrong, they are easier to write. I'm also making up bombs.  
> I'm putting Florida into a different squad.  
> Set before the Freelancer storylines.  
> Oregon is my OC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own.  
> I'm using movie methods for bomb defusal because, although I know they are wrong, they are easier to write. I'm also making up bombs.  
> I'm putting Florida into a different squad.  
> Set before the Freelancer storylines.  
> Oregon is my OC-ish.

A sheep in a snake skin: 

"Welcome to project Freelancer, Agent Oregon."  
How I got into this mess, I'm don't know. I can defend myself, sure, but I'm not a soldier. Not in a thousand years. Yet, somehow, I'm here, in a room filled with the best of the best.  
"Agents, she will be part of your team and her skillset is in forensics and investigation, not combat."  
With that, The Director strides out of the room and I'm left alone with the rest of my new squad.  
The one in teal speaks up, "I'm Carolina, this is York, Washington, North and South Dakota, Wyoming, Maine and Connie. Welcome to the team."  
She promptly walks away, great.  
Washington walks over, "Nice to meet you, Oregon. Oh, please call me Wash. Washington is too long."  
I smile back, "Rig, it sounds better than Oregon in my opinion, you know, if it's going to be my name, more me."  
He laughs at this, oh thank god, a sense of humour. I may live yet.  
"So, forensics..."  
"If you're asking what I do it isn't all that exciting or amazing. Especially compared to super-soldiers."  
"Meh, I bet it's better that you say. I mean, if you got into Freelancer."  
I sigh, my 'skill' in forensics is overstated. So what if I have a natural affinity for it. So what if my mind is photographic and I can notice even the smallest of abnormalities in a place or room I've never been in before. I'm still not a soldier, I am a goddam detective.  
My mind wanders while I take everything in and internally map it in my subconscious. I think about my new life and in particular my armour.  
It’s a dark burgundy with black trim. I have a Mark VI and added Bioscan for an enhancement. I have a medical scanner, did I forget to mention I'm also team medic, and very little in the way of weaponry.  
We entered the canteen, it was practically empty because it wasn't lunch, and I sunk into a seat with the rest of my team. We talked about skills and team roles, they all know combat, great. Well at least I'll be safe while I investigate.  
.  
.  
.  
Training wasn't overly fun. I got to sit and watch the others fight while I watched their bios and completed three Sudoku, five cryptic crosswords and 25 word-searches. Multitasking!  
I didn't really take much interest in the fighting, I'm a scientist who'd prefer to watch a dissection or a chemical under a microscope. I was surprised that they were surprised, really.  
"What do you mean you weren't watching." (South)  
"Exactly what I said, I watched your vitals while doing some brain-training. I'm a scientist not a soldier."  
"You don't deserve to be here."  
I walked out immediately after, fuming. As I left I replied, "Your right."  
.  
.  
.  
Wash came to see me about 20 minutes later but I'd locked the door. I couldn't be bother to speak to anyone. Maybe they would send me back to my little lab so I could continue my old job. Nah.  
.  
.  
.  
The mission was... well... debateable.  
A week after the training room fiasco, I was called to go on a mission with Maine, South and Carolina. I knew York, Wash and North were also on the mission but coming from the other side while Wyoming and Connie completed a mission elsewhere.  
We entered the dockyard quietly and I noticed scuffed dirt, like someone was trying badly to cover their tracks.  
"Hmmm" I pondered kneeling for a closer look.  
South scoffed, "Oh god, is the dirt the gang we're looking for?"  
I sighed and wordlessly stood and walked towards the warehouse the tracks led to.  
Carolina's voice popped up, "The reports said warehouse Eleven. You're going to Six."  
"Yeah, the tracks in the dirt are badly covered, easy to see. My guess, they get us into that warehouse then ambush us from the one backing onto it, Six."  
South growled, "I don't see any tracks and I think it's a shit theory that'll get the others killed."  
"Well sorry. I didn't realise you were a detective. You can go to Eleven over there but I'm going to Six. Don't worry, It wont affect the odds of the fight." 

I walked toward Six while they went to Eleven. I pulled open the door as quietly as I could and found it was empty, almost empty. Right in the middle of the room was a bomb. It's a Y-B-Y-3-1-1-9 and would destroy the docks and everything in a 20 mile radius as well.  
As I approach I hear voices over the comms. I mute them without thinking, I need silence when dealing with bombs. I sent a typed message telling them to stay out of Six. Then I got to work.  
I pulled the back off and examined the wiring. This was an expensive and well made bomb, it would've cost a lot.  
It took me three minutes to deactivate the bomb and as I finished I felt something press into my neck. A gun! 

"Hey there, if you wouldn't mind getting away from our bomb and coming over to this wall it would be great. Oh, and please tell you friends Six is empty and that they should meet you at your rendezvous three miles away. I know your plans so I know where it is. If you co-operate I wont kill them."  
I did as he said knowing that the armour wouldn't protect me from this range and knowing full well they were a very real threat to me and my team.  
"Hey boss, you guys were right, I've looked around and Six is empty. I'll meet you all back at the rendezvous ASAP."  
"Roger that Oregon." 

My hands were soon tied behind my back to one of the support poles leaving me kneeling and facing the man in blood-orange power armour. He yanked my helmet off and tossed it aside.  
"Hello, little lady. You did a number on my bomb, and I so wanted to kill your friends with it. Oh well, I'll just have to kill you instead."  
The slap cracked my head sideways and the sound reverberated around the warehouse. I felt blood trickling from a gash left by the gloved hand. His right hand griped my chin and forced my mouth closed before his left twisted and snapped my knee out of place. I screamed. The was sound muffled by his hand, none of my team would have heard it. He then forced my view downwards so I could see the mangled limb. 

I didn't feel sick, I've seen worse many times, but it wasn't pretty. 

He bent down to look me in the eyes, "Ok princess, here's the deal. You want them to live you do as I say. If not, I kill them." He pulled up a holographic screen with a snipers view of Wash. Oh god. "Starting with him."  
South entered the view and talked with Wash, she seemed pissed. The sight was still wholly on Wash though. 

"W-what do you want me to do?"  
"Scream for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue?


	2. An injured sheep in a torn snake skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own, etc.

_He bent down to look me in the eyes, "Ok princess, here's the deal. You want them to live you do as I say. If not, I kill them." He pulled up a holographic screen with a snipers view of Wash. Oh god. "Starting with him." South entered the view and talked with Wash, she seemed pissed. The sight was still wholly on Wash though. "W-what do you want me to do?" "Scream for me."_

Then the beating started. I kept my eyes on the screen of Wash, I wasn't about to let anyone die because of me. I remember screams I later realised were my own. Then it stopped. I stared at the helmet facing me in confusion. He laughed. "That was fun, really, but I do have to go now."

He then stuck a knife deep into my stomach and I gasped.

His hand snaked its way around my neck before it squeezed. I choked and wheezed, desperate for air.

The pressure disappeared and he moved to the side, flicking on my helmet radio so I could hear it.

.

Wash's voice was clear as day, "What do you mean you ignored her? She's a detective, it's her job to notice the things we wont."

Carolina responded, "Wash... I'm sure she'll be here soon. She called in and said that she would be."

.

The Orange man sighed, "Hit him in the chest."

** Crack!!!  **

I watched in horror as the bullet hit him in the chest, as he cried out and coughed and fell into the ground with a thud. As Carolina moved to shield Wash's body with her own. As the team desperately found shelter, their voices merging into one.

"Shit, sniper!"

"Wash! Wash!"

"Help him!"

"Oh god!"

"We need evac, now!"

I hung my head, I couldn't watch. "How could you?" I rasped, my voice still sore from the abuse I'd just gone through, "I did everything you asked." He merely cocked his head, "I wanted to. It was fun."

I watched him leave and collapsed. I'd been holding myself up but the adrenaline disappeared. My whole body ached with fatigue and abuse. I drifted in my mind.

South's voice drew me back, "Oh shit, I bet Oregon was right about warehouse Six. She was probably captured."

Carolina agreed, "You're right. God, how could we have been so stupid. Ok, York, North, stay with Wash and wait for evac. South, Maine, you're with me. We need to find her."

They were coming...

I sighed and straightened myself a little before shedding the handcuffs, they were easy to pick, and I shuffled myself to my helmet. The wave of agony tore a cry from my tortured throat and caused spots to dance in my eyes. I picked up my helmet and flicked the radio back to two way. I didn't put it on though.

"Oregon, If you can here me, we need you ready to run, there's a sniper."

My voice was raspy, barely coherent, "Hey Boss, uhhh, I'm gonna have to say no on the whole –cough cough cough- running thing. I'm not –cough- really –cough- able to move."

"Shit, we're almost there. Hang on. Uhh, can you give me a list of injuries."

I wheezed/laughed at that, "Sure, -cough- knife wound -cough- to the -wheeze- abdomen, con- cough-cussion, broken -wheeze- ribs –cough- and I'll –cough- be lucky if they can -cough- save my leg, -wheeze- otherwise nothing more than a little -wheeze-bruised."

The door flew open and I made out a blur of cyan, white and purple.

Everything went black.


	3. Stitching up the snake skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I've been busy and had a lot of ideas, lot's of other stories.  
> I don't own, yadda yadda.

Stitching up the snake skin: 

 

I came too in a room full of colours. The colours became people as the fog cleared from my head. With the absence of the fog came the pain, piercing through the pain killers. 

I groaned. 

My team's attention snapped to me at the noise and I smiled grimly, "What happened?" 

North responded, "You were captured on the mission and..." 

I interrupted, "Yeah, no shit! I mean what happened after I passed out? How is Washington? How bad are my injuries? Did anyone kill that orange prick?" 

South smirked and York answered, "Wash's fine, evac got him to medics before it got to bad. He's in physio right now." 

Carolina looked at me, "I'm sorry, we should have listened. As for what happened, South, Maine and I entered Six to find you passed out in a pool of your own blood and a large but deactivated bomb to your right. We didn't kill your attacker." 

"We will though," South added. 

"Don't worry," I shifted myself into a seated position despite protests, "People usually don't listen to detectives and usually don't work in a team. I should've called in the bomb when I saw it but instead I muted comms." 

Connie moved from her position on the wall, "Yeah but that was a Y-B-Y-3-1-1-9. Going straight to work meant less chance for the timer to end while we were there. They were obviously watching from a safe distance and once they realised you were going to stop it they attacked. You saved the team and didn't take unnecessary risks." 

"It was a nice bomb through." I muttered wistfully. Wash re-entered the room and gave me a very strange look. He'd obviously been filled in already. 

 

The conversation then moved onto other topics before finally settling on jokes. 

"Knock knock?" 

"Oh my god Wyoming I'll kill you!" 

"Who's there?" 

"Don't encourage him." 

"Boo." 

"This jokes older than all of us put together." 

"Boo Who?" 

"Jesus Christ, I hate you." 

"Don't cry." 

This conversation between Wash, York and Wyoming was humorous to someone as pumped full of painkillers as me so I joined in. 

"Hey Wyoming." 

"Yes?" 

"How many programmers does it take to change a lightbulb?" 

"I don't know. How many programmers does it take to change a lightbulb?" 

"None, that's a hardware problem." 

Wyoming laughed and I got some strange looks.  

South smirked, "So you do have a sense of humour." 

"Oh yeah," I replied, "it's a funny story actually. My friend, a hacker, said I had no sense of humour and I said I didn't need one. He then blackmailed everyone I knew into buying me joke books for Christmas. I have 243 of them." 

. 

. 

. 

Slowly everyone filtered out until only Carolina was left. 

"Hey boss, you never did tell me my injuries..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a while before my next update.


	4. Sly Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much for this one.

"Hey Rig, glad to see you up and about." 

"Hey York, yeah, the leg was salvageable after all. Got some cool scars as well." 

"Heading to the briefing?" 

"Duh." 

I limped into the briefing room with York and waited for The Director to start. 

"Agents, our target is high-risk. Your job is get in, get the info, get out. The info required consists of two things, blueprints and a diary which happens to be a hard copy of all of the targets plans. When you get in you will have five minutes to find all of the info." 

"Five Minutes?" 

I sighed as The Director growled, "Yes Agent South, ample time for Agent Oregon, right?" 

"Should be." 

. 

. 

. 

We got in easily enough and I switched on my 'detective sight'.  

"Ok, what do we have here..." 

 _S_ _eat- 35_ _degC_ _\- he was here recently. Its old- sentiment or lack of funds._  

 _W_ _alls have thinning paint, he needs a touch up. Hasn't done it, funds again?_  

 _D_ _esk looks out of place, cold metal in wooden room-_ _definitely_ _has locks on draws, top is unlocked, bottom is broken, it has to be in the middle one- I need a key._  

 _K_ _ey._  

 _K_ _ey._  

 _P_ _aintings and photos lead to more sentiment. The ones on the wall are too big and covered in dust, the ones on the desk are similar but to small._  

 _The vents?_  

 _T_ _hree of four bolts unscrewed but a latch keeps it up- the latch is well hidden._  

 _O_ _k, what else?_  

 _B_ _ookshelf is new,_ _lightw_ _eight_ _and the books aren't real. Dust and a slightly rumpled carpet show it's moved recently or frequently._ _There'_ _s_ _a large gap behind where the fake books are._  

 _P_ _erfect._  

I move over to the vent and pop it open using the key to unlock the draw and get the diary. I hand it to Carolina before walking over to the bookshelves and moving them, the blueprint falling to the floor. 

The others help me pick them up and I grin behind my helmet, "Alright, lets go." 

South sighed loudly, "I'm not even going to ask." 

. 

. 

. 

"Actually, I'll ask. WHAT THE HELL?" 

"It's my job, South." 

I left before she could say another word and ignored her as the punched the wall behind me. 

I didn't mind detective sight but unlike the only other people that I knew with it, I had some control. I say I turn it on and off but in reality I just ignore it. It makes me much more sociable than most. When I look at someone I see all about them but I don't spill it out, I ignore what I know and pretend I'm shocked when something is revealed. 

I don't know where I'm going, having left South fuming in our dorm room, and in a weird way, it's nice. 

I bump into Wash, Maine, North and York in the canteen. 

York instantly welcomes me, "Yo, Rig, that was awesome." 

Wash nods, "And scary, it makes me feel like you know all my secrets." 

I smirk, "Only most of them Wash." 

They laugh at this, thank god. See, I can socialise. When you think about my family it's shocking. 

North looks up, "So, I'm no detective," he pauses to let the group laugh, "but I did overhear The Councillor being asked whether it being your birthday would affect the mission." 

York dropped his drink, "Wait, it's your birthday." 

"Umm, yes, it is, ha, I'd forgotten." 

"What?" They all screeched. 

"I mean, it's been a... busy day?" 

That started the laughing which caused Connie, Wyoming, Carolina and South, who had just entered the room, to come over, curious. 

It took a full five minutes before York could coherently tell them without laughing, a little ridiculous for a super soldier in my opinion, but everyone was laughing all over again a few minutes later so, what do I know? 

. 

. 

. 

When I went back to my room a few hours later there were letters and boxes on my bed. All addressed to the same name, my name: 

 

Rosie Watson. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  
> The suspense.


End file.
